6 Mentals and an Angel
by Queen of Rickrolling
Summary: Let's just say aliens, demons, gay couples, and London just don't mix.
1. Chapter 1

**New story! Exciting I know! I did this story with my OCD friend so yeah... very good grammar I might say. There is Johnlock, and Destiel in here! There is no ten and Rose because they hook up later! You know in the actual show... anyway I do hope you enjoy!**

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"And police are now saying that the explosion was _not _arson or the work of a terrorist group. One report says that they honestly have no idea what's going on. The abandoned warehouse was a popular site for squatters, but police say there was no one in the building at the time of the explosion. Some people-"

The telly set in the living room went black. "Boring!"

"Sherlock, I was watching that."

"No you weren't, you were making tea."

"Sherlock."

"John."

"Turn the telly back on. Lestrade might want us to investigate later, so we might as well find out all we can now."

"Fine." The world's only consulting detective slammed a button on the remote and the reporter's face immediately popped back onto the screen. She continued to babble on in her thick British accent about the latest happening, an explosion on the outskirts of London. Just an abandoned warehouse, no big deal, except that there was no evidence or any reason as to why it had turned to ash in less than three seconds flat. Even Sherlock looked a bit confused as he watched the video footage of the explosion happening, caught on a security camera a couple blocks away.

"Lestrade just called," John announced, pocketing his phone as he stepped into the living room. "He wants us to get over there right away."

"I thought this wasn't Gary's division."

"It's Greg, Sherlock, and right now, this is everyone's division. Are you coming with me or not?"

The corners of Sherlock's mouth turned up ever so slightly. "Let you go on such an interesting case alone? I wouldn't dream of it."

Five minutes later, the two men were in a cab, heading towards the scene. Huge plumes of smoke streaked across the early afternoon sky of London. The streets were mostly empty, everyone at home watching the news. Police cars and fire trucks kept passing by, sirens blaring. By the time they had arrived, Sherlock was literally at the edge of his seat with excitement. John paid the cabbie (as usual) and then hurried over to where Sherlock was already greeting Lestrade by the police tape.

"...no idea how the explosion even happened. Everything was just leveled to ash by the time we got here. Maybe you can find something?"

Sherlock nodded, pretending to be interested in Lestrade while he looked around the scene. "Who are they?" he asked suddenly, cutting off the detective inspector and pointing to two men leaning against an ambulance, whispering to each other.

"Er, I don't exactly know," Lestrade replied. "They just showed us their badges, said they were undercover FBI officers who were just passing through London. Donovan had to let them through."

John leaned over to Sherlock and whispered, "They're not really FBI. I know an officer when I see one."

Sherlock grinned. "Good eyes, John. They're not even trying to be discreet about it, are they?" And with that, the detective stepped over the tape, holding it up for a brief second while John slipped through, and then strode over to the two men, deductions already flooding his head.

The first man was about as tall as Sherlock and very muscular. _Helps him convince people he's FBI. Lifts weights, but not around other people. Insecure._ Eyes: very bright green. Lips: normal shade of pink. Facial hair/freckles: nonexistent. Hair: dark brown, shorter on the sides than on the top of his head, almost like it was shaved. _Father in the military. Lots of combat experience. _

The other man was younger. _First man's little brother. _He also saw how the older brother was talking and acting with his little brother. _Fiercely protected. Would be hard to murder. _Height: tall, taller than Sherlock. Again, very muscular, even with the suit.

Sherlock just shook his head slightly, motioning for John to follow through the rubble. Both men pretended to stare at a particularly large scorch mark on the ground while really listening to the two "FBI agents." The older one was talking quietly, his voice fairly deep and raspy, "Hey, I don't why we're here anyway. I mean when do we even leave the country?" _American, but not FBI. Real occupation: ? _

"This is the first lead we've gotten in months. You and I both know we were going to take it even if it was in Australia. And besides, Cas said he really needed our help here." the second man replied. _Maybe consulting criminals? Not good ones, anyway. _

Sherlock kept going through his mind palace as he examined the crime scene, though there was nothing much about it to observe. The building had obviously exploded, leaving almost no evidence. He was just picking up a piece of rubble when the FBI agents finally came forward. The taller one spoke first. "Sherlock Holmes and John Watson, right? Someone told us y'all would be here."

Sherlock raised an eyebrow, nudging John slightly with his foot. "Yes. And you are?"

The two men flipped open their wallets, flashing their _(fake) _IDs for a split second before putting them back. The taller man spoke. "Agent Grierson. This is my partner, Agent Maxvill."

John smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Hi, nice to me-"

Sherlock quickly cut John off. "You can stop showing off those fake IDs, which are, by the way, not even halfway realistic-looking. You're lucky you got by Donovan with those. Expired, ten years old, at least. Besides, it's blatantly obvious you two are not business partners, but brothers. So what brings two brothers, who work together, impersonating FBI agents-a federal crime, may I add-to London, England? You're not soldiers, that's what your father did and that was evidently not the best choice for him. You lost your mother at a young age and don't have any other real family, so don't try to lie and say that you're visiting someone."

The two "FBI agents" just stared in shock. "Damn," muttered the shorter one. "You really are like the file said."

John cleared his throat. "Yeah, he's always like that. So...a file? Sounds like you guys did a little bit of research."

The taller one nodded his head, looking a bit sheepish. "Well, I do most of the research. If we're going to be totally honest with each other, I'm Sam, and this is my older brother Dean."

The corners of Sherlock's mouth turned up in a small smile. "So if you aren't FBI agents, then who are you?"

The two brothers shared a concerned look to each other. Before they could answer, Lestrade stepped over to them. "Agents. We have the security footage, and you might want to have a look."

Sam and Dean quietly breathed a sigh of relief and walked over to a van sitting near them in the carpark. Everyone crawled in, all eyes fixed on the screens plastered to the side of the van, wires poking out everyone.

A bit of static buzzed before a black-and-white, soundless clip appeared. It was a shot of the side of the building, the silhouette of man in one of the windows. Sherlock could just barely make out a table in front of the man with bowls and a few other things just out of shock. Reading his lips, the (real) detective knew that he was speaking a foreign language, one he hadn't seen before. The man then picked up something from the table. It looked like a handful of red powder. _Cooking? No. Explosives? No. _He placed the powder in a bowl. A huge flash suddenly lit up the screen and the tape stopped.

Sherlock didn't know what he placed in that could have possibly made that big of an explosion in such little quantities. The brothers, however, seemed to know what to make of it.

"Hey, tech guy, rewind it until right before the explosion." Dean said to the the man standing by the cameras. He nodded, rewinding the tape until right before the man placed the substance in the bowl.

"Now zoom in." The tape zoomed in to the man's face. But there was nothing special about the man. He just looked like a normal guy. Well, everyone acted normal, but the brothers seemed weirded out.

"Okay, now switch to slow-motion leading up to the explosion." They watched the explosion, frame-by-frame.

"Stop!" Sam suddenly said. The screen froze. Right as the explosion started, there was a sudden burst of strange black smoke.

"That's just probably the fire being lit." Lestrade broke the silence, sounding a bit uneasy.

The brothers looked at each other and nodded. "Yeah, probably just that." Sherlock could see that they obviously knew what it was and weren't going to say it.

The two went up to Lestrade and gave him a card. "Hey, look," Dean started. "Let us know if you find anything else." Lestrade tipped the card to him and placed it in his inside jacket pocket. The two then made their way to the old, American car parked on the wrong side of the street.

Sherlock looked over at John and nodded. "Alright, Lestrade. Time for us to go. Mind if I keep this and bring it to the lab?" The detective held up the piece of rubble he'd picked up earlier.

Lestrade nodded and smiled. "Sure. Call me when you find something."

John and Sherlock quickly left the van, hurrying down the edge of a grove of trees, careful to stay hidden as they crept to the edge of the carpark and eavesdropped on the two brothers' conversation.

"So, what, this was a demon summoning gone wrong?" Dean lifted an eyebrow as he made his way towards the driver side.

_Demon summoning? What the hell are these two blokes on? Not cocaine. I was never that bad. _Sherlock exchanged a confused look with John.

"Or a demon summoning gone right." Sam muttered. Dean's eyes widened only slightly before they both opened the creaky doors and closed them in unison.

Right as they drove off, first on the wrong side of the road, Sherlock quickly jumped to the side of the road, hailing a cab. "John! We're leaving!"

John nodded, running over to the detective and jumping in the cab right alongside him.

"Just follow that American car!" Sherlock aggressively told the cab driver. "We'll pay you double. Just go quickly and don't ask questions. The cabbie nodded, speeding up to catch up with the Impala going oddly down the road.

"Sherlock. Why are we following them?" John asked, his brow furrowing.

"Because," Sherlock said, turning to John, "They said something about a demon summoning. Two strange American men, pretending to be FBI agents. They know something about the explosion but won't let on and it apparently has something to do with demons. Aren't you intrigued?"

John nodded, seeming to understand. They rode in silence, Sherlock busying himself watching the car and John gazing out the window with an occasional glance at Sherlock.

"Okay, stop here!" Sherlock shouted, bolting out of the cab the second it came to a semi-complete stop. John sighed, handing the cabbie a fifty and hurrying after the detective.

Out a couple buildings away was an old, two-story motel building. The bricks were faded red, mold and ivy crawling up the sides. A few of the windows on the second floor were smashed in, the frames held together with duct tape. _Not exactly the kind of place two FBI agents would be staying. Or anyone decent, for that matter._ A buzzing neon sign above the almost empty parking lot read "VAC NY." Tucked away in a shadowed corner of the lot was the American car-an Impala-they had been following.

John gave Sherlock a huge fake smile. "Ready to go in, then?"  
Sherlock's nose wrinkled. "I suppose we have to."

They hurried across the lot, John nearly running to try and keep up with Sherlock's long strides. They stopped at an old wooden door, dirt caking the bottom of it and a suspicious-looking bullethole in the corner. Sherlock opened it, the sound of a bell jingling echoing across the small, dirty lobby. They approached the front desk, where a middle-aged man sat, glancing over the newspaper, a beer at his side.

"Two men came in here earlier. Probably said they were FBI agents. What room are they in?" Sherlock immediately cut to the point.

The man looked up, seeming bored with the detective and his blogger already. "Maybe I did, maybe I didn't. I don't really pay attention to who comes and goes," he replied in a slow drawl, then looked back to his paper. _Part-time manager. Late 40's. Obese. Single. Porn addiction. The usual. _

Before Sherlock could say anything too snarky, John reached into his pocket and pulled out a fifty. He slid it across the desk, getting the manager's attention rather quickly. "You sure you don't remember?"

A slow smile crept on to the man's face. "Room 102. Down the hall, second door on the left. Don't cause any trouble or I'm calling the police. Got it?"

"Of course," John replied. "Thanks for everything." And with that, he pulled Sherlock down the hall, stopping at room 102.

Turning the door knob ever so slightly, Sherlock was surprised to find that they didn't even bother to lock the door. He turned the door knob all the way before whispering to John, "You might want to take out your gun." John eyed him but obeyed and reached inside his jacket. Suddenly, the door swung open, banging against the wall. Dean grabbed Sherlock by surprise, throwing him on the floor and taking out his own gun, pointing it right at the detective's face. John returned the favor, aiming his gun at Dean. And then out burst Sam, grabbing ahold of John's gun, twisting it and then putting the doctor in a headlock with his own gun pointed at him.

"Why were you following us?!" Dean demanded, his eyes fixed on Sherlock. The detective didn't answer, instead kicking his feet under Dean's leg, taking the gun from the man now sprawled on the floor, pointing it at Dean, and then calmly asking, "Why don't you tell me what you're really doing here? What do you really do for a living?"

Dean didn't answer, just glared. But John now saw his chance, seeing that Sam was distracted by his brother having a gun pointed at him. In one swift motion, perfected by years of practice, John elbowed Sam in the gut, causing Sam to gag and lose his grip. John then took his gun back and pointed it at Sam, looking calm but focused. There was a tense silence in the air. No one spoke for a long time before the brothers, as if coordinated, took out matching knives from their back pockets. "Well, let's just say our profession requires us to remain...well-armed," Sam sneered.

Sherlock grinned. "Ooh, I like these two. They can _think._" He cleared his throat loudly. "Alright, well, why don't we all go to the kitchen, make some tea, and have a little chat about why we're all gathered here today?"

"Yeah, or how 'bout you give me my gun back and get the hell outta here!" Dean spat, his gravelly voice echoing around the room.

Sherlock took a slight moment to look at his gun. Silver barrel. White handle. Well-crafted carvings on both. _Dean's favorite gun. _

Sherlock gave Dean a cheeky grin. "Fine. We'll leave you both alone, but I think I'll just take this gun with me. It's quite nice."

Dean's eyes widened and his face turned almost disgusted. "Give me my gun, you psychopathic asshat!"

"High functioning sociopath, actually. And I wouldn't be caught dead in a hat. But thank you. Now you're probably realizing that we both have something the other wants. You want your gun. I want information. Care to trade?"

"We're hunters." Sam finally said, earning confused looks from both Sherlock and John.

Dean sighed and explained, "We hunt monsters, ghosts, vampires, werewolves, sometimes even demons. It's kind of the family business."

"So you came here because you think someone summoned a demon?" John appeared to be trying not to laugh. "Sorry if this seems a bit rude, but, um, exactly what drugs are you taking?"

Sherlock's eyes, which had been flicking back and forth between the brothers, suddenly widened. "They're not high and they're not lying."

"Sorry, what?" John asked.

The detective rolled his eyes. "Trust me, I know what high people look like. They're clean. No signs of syringe marks on their arms, no bloodshot pupils, no slurred words, nothing. They're also not lying. No increased pulse, no dilated pupils. I suppose they're...telling the truth, or at least are seriously convinced they are."

John blinked, looking confused. "So...they're all real, then?"

"Well, the Loch Ness Monster isn't real, if that helps," Dean said, smiling back at John.

John's eyes narrowed and he exchanged pointed looks with Sherlock. Neither the detective nor the doctor was convinced, but if they wanted to get to the bottom of this, they'd have to play along.

Sam cleared his throat, trying to get everyone's attention. "Right, so, we'll just be on our way then." He started to leave when Sherlock stepped forward, blocking the doorway.

"Wait. So you think someone summoned a Demon? How? Do summoning demons usually involve three-story warehouses exploding?" The detective cocked his head to the side, looking Sam up and down as if he were a specimen under a microscope.

Dean sighed loudly, looking annoyed. Sherlock glared threateningly at him.

"Demons don't usually cause buildings to explode. It's just a puff of fire from the bowl and then a Demon shows up," Sam explained, eyeing Sherlock and his brother.

John, who had seemed lost in thought, spoke up. "Alright, well, it looks like everyone has a lot of explaining to do, and I really doubt a bloody disgusting motel room with thin walls is the best place to do it. Sherlock, we're having the Winchester brothers over for afternoon tea."

Both Dean and Sherlock's eyes immediately screamed "NO," but John's tone of voice made it clear there wasn't going to be any arguments about it. Sam seemed to understand, and just as the silence in the room was becoming awkward, he quickly said, "Sounds great. We'll probably just have coffee, though. No offense, but tea is pretty nasty."

Sherlock seemed to think for just a beat before a small smile appeared on his lips. "So we'll see you at three. You can give us more information if you would like your weapons back," he replied, noticing the way Dean was staring at his gun.

Dean looked like he was ready to rip the detective's throat out, but he still nodded curtly. "What's the name and address to ask for?"

"The name is Sherlock Holmes, and the address is 221B Baker Street." And with that, the detective grabbed John and they were out the front door.

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**Welllll? We worked so hard on this so a review would be quite nice! The second chapter is coming fairly soon... we just have to finish it...**


	2. Chapter 2

**Ayyyyy more perfect grammar story! Yeah this took us a while to do... but we did it because we love you! one and all so come and enjoy our next chapter!**

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"3:01 P.M. BST. No sign of the Winchester brothers or any of their made-up demons. No sign of anyone, in fact. Even Mrs. Hudson appears to have left, which is odd since it is a Saturday afternoon and she always spends Saturday afternoons watching a telly marathon and working on her needlepoint. John Watson is currently ignoring the world's only consulting detective, the incredible and unprecedented Sherlock Holmes. Also-"

"The incredible and unprecedented Sherlock Holmes needs to shut the hell up before his flatmate refuses to make him breakfast for the rest of the week." John looked up from his laptop once to glare at the figure sprawled on their couch.

"Then the incredible and unprecedented Sherlock Holmes would refuse to take John Watson on any cases."

"Touché."

Before the argument could escalate any further, there was a loud, crunching noise from the street. Sherlock sat up, listening intently to the rather one-sided conversation happening below.

"Goddamn British streets. What the hell do they think they're doing, putting a parking space next to a telephone pole? Do we have to pay for that? I'm not going to. Is this even the right damn street? Everything's labeled weird and the cars are on the wrong side of the road and now we're bargaining with a psychopath for my gun."

"Dean, I already told you this! The streets are different because-"

"I don't care! I just don't like it!"

Before either of them could continue, there was a violent knock on the door. Sherlock sat up, about to start towards the stairs when John quickly stood up. "No, you stay in here. I'll answer the door. Just sit and try not to cause an explosion."

Sherlock sighed loudly but obeyed, watching John hurry downstairs and open the door, snippets of their conversation carrying up the stairs.

"...late, but I suppose..."

"...goddamn parking..."

"...he means thank you..."

"...upstairs, shall we?"

Feet stomped on the stairs. The front door opened. Dean Winchester stopped in the doorway, eyes widening. "Man. It's bigger than most apartments we've been in."

"It's called a flat," Sherlock corrected, not looking up from the newspaper he had just grabbed.

"WELL IN AMERICA THEY'RE CALLED APARTMENTS." Dean was practically yelling now.

"Shut up, both of you," John said, his voice icy. "Tea and coffee are both on the stove in the kitchen. Be nice to the mugs and come back to the living room after you get your drink."

"Yeah thanks, but I think I'll just get a beer," Dean grumbled, going into the kitchen before John could stop him. Striding over to the fridge, he opened the door to see a head right in front of his face. The hunter barely blinked, a shocked look barely passing over his face before returning back to his usual pissed-off state. "So where's the beer?" he asked, trying to sound more polite this time.

John finally turned to look at the open fridge. Dean appeared to be having a staring contest with the severed head. Before John could answer, Sherlock appeared in the doorway, looking amused. "Since I am not allowed to have cocaine in the flat, John is not allowed to have alcohol except on special occasions. However, severed heads seem to be a slightly better alternative in both of our eyes."

John nodded. "That about sums it up."

"You're alright with a severed head? In your house?" Sam seemed to be the only one surprised. He took a quick glance at the head before shrugging and replying, "Well, yeah, I mean, we have seen worse."

"And I figured that you would have some body part of a human somewhere, living with a psychopath." Dean added, now scavenging around for food.

"HIGH FUNCTIONING SOCIOPATH," Sherlock yelled, glaring at Dean from the corner of the kitchen. "And the head is an experiment! Don't touch it!"

"I ain't gonna touch your freakin' head!" Dean called back. Finally spotting a sandwich, Dean grabbed it. As he was about to close the door, looking back to see if anyone was watching, Dean poked the head's forehead, grinning cheekily. When he turned around he saw Sam, eyebrow lifted, staring at him with the sandwich.

"What?" Dean asked, mouth full, giving him an actual confused look.

"Really?" Sam glared at him, annoyed, tilting his head slightly.

"I was hungry!" Dean retorted, giving Sam the "I do my own shit" face. Sam rolled his eyes and walked back into the living room, grabbing two cups of tea for him and Dean.

"You guys planning on coming back in here any time soon? Coffee's getting cold." It was John, who had spent the last few minutes on the couch with Sherlock as they eavesdropped on the brothers. The brothers sat down and almost simultaneously took a sip of the tea. They both made a disgusted face, Dean more than Sam, and placed the cups on the table.

Suddenly, a loud whooshing and grinding noise filled everyone's ears. It seemed to be coming from the alley. The Winchester brothers immediately pulled out knives. John just sat there, looking nonplussed. Sherlock, however, immediately began to smile.

"So he's here in London now, is he?" the detective asked before he grabbed a pair of shoes and shoved them on along with his coat and scarf. "John, come on. We're going to meet someone whether he likes it or not."

Everyone in the room was now staring at the beaming detective as he grabbed a file off the ground and threw open the front door. "John. This is very important and we need to hurry before he runs off with whatever girl he's dragging along." And with that, Sherlock ran out the front door, practically jumping down the stairs, leaving John to hurry off after him. The Winchesters exchanged a look before shrugging their shoulders and following after them at a more leisurely pace.

"Sherlock! What the he-" John immediately shut his mouth as he rounded the corner to the alley and saw what Sherlock had been so excited about. It was a 1960s police box that obviously hadn't been there before, big and blue with a weird sort of device at the top.

Suddenly, one of the doors opened and out stepped a girl. "Doctah, I still don't get wh-" she started to say before noticing that she had an audience. "Oh my God. Doctah! We've got company." She was wearing a simple red hoodie, blue jeans, and high tops, her hair pulled back into a ponytail. _19 or 20. Lives somewhere in England. Cardiff, maybe? Left her mother and boyfriend behind. Lost her father at an early age. Seems content in her current situation._

A man's head poked through the doorway. His brown hair was sticking up in all directions and his black glasses were askew. "Hi there. Sorry if we startled you. We're trying out a prop for a movie downtown." He pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket, holding it up for them to see.

_Peter Wellington. Props Manager, London Theatre. _John eyed it suspiciously.

"Bullshit." Sherlock's voice was loud and clear. "That paper is blank. John, it's called psychic paper. Hello Doctor. Hello Rose Tyler."

Everyone froze for a second before the Doctor appeared to switch tactics, stepping out of the police box and closing the door. "Hi there. Sorry about that. Just trying all the old tricks. Who might you two be?"

"Sherlock Holmes and John Watson," Sherlock replied, holding up a file. "Don't worry about introductions. I know who you two are."

Rose's eyes narrowed. "Are you one of those weirdo fanatics?" she asked. "Because we don't have time to visit your fan club. We're busy."

Sherlock's smile didn't quite reach his ears. "No. Not a fan. A detective who did some research a few years ago. I was bored."

The Doctor nodded. "Hang on. I think I know you. Sherlock Holmes?"

"Yes."

"You're the detective! You really are brilliant, you know. Ah, I've heard a lot about you in my travels through the universe."

"Sorry, what?" John spoke up. "Your travels through the universe?"

Rose nodded. "That's kind of what we do. Didn't your buddy here clue you in?"

"No, he neglected to mention that. But I guess it doesn't matter." John shook his head slightly. "So, four mental people in one day? Hope we're not starting a new reputation, Sherlock."

Suddenly, as if on cue, Sam and Dean appeared from the back of the blue box and splashed the Doctor and Rose with water. Then, gripping Rose and the Doctor, they took out their silver knives and cut their arms. Jumping back, they held their knives in front of them, as if they are waiting for an attack. When they saw that the holy water and silver did nothing to them, they put the knives back. Dean smiled, tilting his head, "Sorry about that, just had to make sure you weren't demons or anything else."

The Doctor eyed them oddly while Rose was infuriated. "Demons?! What the hell! Demons aren't real! You two are mental!"

"Not mental, just hunters." Sam corrected.

"Everyone here is bloody mental," John grumbled, moving closer to Sherlock.

Dean looked over at Rose, gave a smirk and cleared his throat. "You know, I'm terribly sorry 'bout that. Maybe I could get you a drink to apologize properly."

"Go to hell!" Rose spat.

Dean couldn't help but laugh. "Sorry sweetheart, already been. Didn't quite agree with me."

At this everyone turned to Dean, utterly shocked, but the Doctor's eyes just got wider. "Oh, you're Dean Winchester!"

Dean looked at him and smiled, nodding his head. The Doctor walked over and shook Dean's hand. "Nice to meet you."

He then looked at Sam and shook his hand, too. "And you're Sam Winchester!"

The Doctor smiled, taking the whole scene in. "Rose, these are the Winchester brothers. Most famous and successful hunters around, although I'm not necessarily too fond of that. And did I mention Sherlock and John here are the best detectives to ever have lived? Ooh, this is like a celebrity meet-and-greet!"

Rose stared down at her bleeding arm. "Somehow I think they go a bit differently than this."

John shook his head slowly. "I still don't underst-"

Dean suddenly cut in. "ACTUALLY, there's a lot of shit going down right now that I don't understand, but something tells me this alleyway isn't the best place to chit chat and have dramatic reunions."

"Back to our flat, then?" Sherlock asked, an amused smile on his face like he couldn't believe how adorable everyone was with their bleeding arms and blue boxes and holy water.

Five minutes later, everyone was settled down in the living room, Sherlock and John in their usual armchairs, the Doctor next to Rose on the couch, and the Winchester brothers at the table, sitting on piles of paperwork.

"So," John started, breaking the awkward silence. "Who's going to start off story time first?"

There was a sudden knock at the door before Mrs. Hudson poked her head in. "Boys? Oh!" she said, suddenly noticing the rather large crowd they'd drawn. "There's actually two more people here to see you. Do you have enough room?"

"Depends."

"Sherlock."

"Yes. Fine. We do."

Mrs. Hudson opened the door a little wider and a short blonde woman slipped into the flat, followed by a man in a trench coat.

"Mary!"

"Cas!"

The room was silent for a second. "So. Hey, you two. What's the party all about?" Mary smiled, trying to look cheerful.

"Actually, Mary, there's quite a bit going on right now. You should probably sit down." John motioned to the chair usually reserved for clients. Mary hastily sat down, looking confused.

Meanwhile, Cas walked over to Dean, looking at the others oddly.

"Cas. Why the hell are you here?" Dean asked, getting straight to the point.

"I was going to come assist you, but I see you have other problems on your hands," he said as he looked around the room again.

"Yeah, well, you didn't really need to come because I'm pretty confident that this doesn't involve...you know...the big deal."

"You mean the apocalypse?" Cas said blatantly, all heads now turning to him. "I would beg to differ. I think this has something to do with it, but we should also talk about the timelord on the couch next to the girl."

Rose smiled sheepishly. "Oh, it's okay, he's my friend."

"Yeah. But my god, look at your wings!" The doctor smiled and got up, examining Castiel's wings.

"Wings?!" John shouted, looking utterly confused with the whole situation.

"Oh yeah. He's an angel of the Lord. Big white fluffy wings!" said the Doctor, now getting up and feeling the wings that were invisible to everyone else.

"Thank you. And what are your names?" Castiel asked, looking at the Doctor and Rose.

"I'm Rose, and this is the Doctah."

"Okay, okay, back it up a bit!" Dean interrupted, walking up next to the angel. "First off. Cas, I thought we talked about this whole deceit thing. And second, what the hell's a timelord?"

"A timelord is an alien species from the planet Gallifrey, located in the constellation of Kasterborous. We travel through space and time in a T.A.R.D.I.S, the blue police box you saw outside," the Doctor explained.

"They are one of the rare species that can bend time like it's nothing, hence the name," Castiel added, looking at Dean.

"Yeah, that's great and completely mental and all, but what about this bloody _apocalypse _you mentioned?" John added, now holding Mary's hand.

"The apocalypse is the one you learn about in the Bible," Sam explained shyly. "When the 66 seals are broken, Lucifer walks out of his cage free."

Sam then heard a whisper. He turned and saw Cas leaning in Dean's ear, speaking in hushed voices. When he was finished and backed away, Dean cleared his throat. "Yeah, and that's mainly why we're here. You know, to stop Lilith from breaking the seals. Oh, Lilith is a night from Hell, one of the first Demons that Lucifer actually created, and she's trying to break the seals. Now anyway, we need to get this place demon-proofed, so that means we need salt, holy water, and devil traps." He and Sam then walked over to their bags and got out spray paint. Without even having to get on chairs, they started to make two circles, one by the front door and another in front of the kitchen.

John's eyes widened. "What the f-"

"Do you want your place to be a demon playground?" Dean interrupted.

"No, of course not. But it's not like demons are re-"

"Good. Then shut up," Dean replied, now spraying some symbols inside what appeared to be a rather large pentagram.

"I'll get some tea from the kitchen." Mary said heavily, getting up and hobbled over to the kitchen.

Sherlock cleared his throat loudly. "So I suppose you think you'll be staying here from now on?"

Dean cocked an eyebrow. "Of course we are. How many bedrooms do you have in this, um..."

"Flat."

"Yeah, that."

"We have two. Mine is down here, John's is upstairs."

"Alright," Rose said. "Looks like some of us are going to have to share rooms."

Sherlock shifted in his seat. "John and I can stay in my room. The Doctor and you can have John's." He gave the Winchesters and Castiel a look. "You're welcome to have the living room as long as you don't blow it up."

John spoke up, looking a bit annoyed with nobody being able to stay on track. "Alright, before anyone starts staying anywhere I think we need to actually learn who everyone is. Dean, Sam, Castiel. It's still your turn."

Half an hour later, they finished explaining that they were 'hunters,' people who made it their business to keep the earth safe from demons and other less desirable creatures. When Castiel had gotten word of a demonic presence in London, he'd sent the brothers to investigate, but of course they apparently couldn't do it without him. And now here they were, trying to find new leads on the case.

The Doctor and Rose seemed to understand, nodding appreciatively. Sherlock and John, however, looked unconvinced, the former developing his usual 'bored' attitude. Mary said nothing, her facial expression strangely blank as she watched them talk.

Finally, the Doctor broke the silence that had settled over the room. "Is it our turn yet?"

The corners of John's mouth turned up slightly. "Of course. Time to hear the other half of the mentals."

Rose shot him a glare but then launched into her story, the Doctor cutting in occasionally. The time-traveling duo told everyone about the time lords, an ancient race of aliens who could travel anywhere through time and space. The T.A.R.D.I.S was their spaceship, one of the best ones out there. It was "bigger on the inside" and took them pretty much anywhere they wanted to go anytime, anywhere. The Doctor and Rose had just been passing through and decided to stop in London for a "real cup of English tea."

After a few more minutes, Sherlock interrupted by immediately beginning to tell the story of how the world's only consulting detective had happened to meet a retired army captain who would be willing to not only put up with him but also to be his flatmate and work partner. John introduced Mary, who still looked strangely blank. Sherlock's eyes narrowed, but from what was still a mystery.

"Mary, you feelin' alright?" Dean asked from his position of leaning against the table.

She looked at him, a bit annoyed at first, but changed her expression to uncomfortable. "Oh. Yeah, just...having a hard time grasping all this." She then looked up at the demon trap she was under, her eyes wide.

"Uh huh," Dean said. His face blank, he splashed holy water on Mary, who instantly clenched up, crying out, her skin boiling and seething.

John and Sherlock immediately shot up and moved away. John stuttered, "W-what the hell are you!"

Mary relaxed and turned to him, her eyes now black, "I'm a demon, you twat!"

Everyone froze. John and Sherlock had both backed up to the bookcase, horrified expressions on both their faces. Dean and Sam took action, standing in front of "Mary." They began the interrogation. "Alright, let's make this quick. Who summoned you?!"

Demon Mary looked at them, her eyes menacing. "In all honesty, I have not the slightest clue! I mean he looked human, but...he wasn't. He was tall and lanky, like, eh, the board over there." She swung her head over to the tenth doctor, who shot her a glare before she started to speak again. "But he was white, like transparent white. He obviously didn't know what he was doing because he added too much lamb's blood and poured a giant goddamn bucket of sulfur in! We did hear something the guy was muttering. It sounded like, 'You must protect us and destroy the Daleks.' Whatever that means."

The Doctor jumped off the couch, knocking Rose to the side, eyes wide. "Thals! What are they doin' here?" he asked.

Rose seemed worried about something else, though. "Daleks? Here on Earth! Oh God, I need to get to Mum and Mickey!"

The Doctor groaned at the mention of Rose's mother.

"That doesn't matter now," Cas interrupted. "What are you doing in a pregnant woman!"

Mary laughed an evil laugh. "Well, Castiel, in case you haven't noticed, our favorite anti-christ has disappeared and we can't seem to find him! So when I appeared, before the big explosion, I helped him summon them, actually. _Anyway, _I saw this perfect, plump, vessel, and saw my chance to make a new one anti-christ, and have a new bitch."

John's face turned twisted with anger. A click sounded through the room. Sherlock turned and pointed a gun at Mary's head.

"Sherlock, don't!" Sam demanded frantically, holding up his hands. "Don't kill her! You'll just harm Mary when the demon gets out."

Sherlock looked at him coldly before putting the safety on the gun and placing it back in the back of his trousers. The Winchesters and Castiel made a line in front of Mary. However, before they could start interrogating, the Doctor charged up, eyes threatening. "The Daleks. Where are they? Where are the Thals located?"

The demon rolled her eyes and groaned. "If I even knew, I wouldn't tell you. We made a deal; they sold their souls and everything! It's going to be nice to torture some alien souls, so I don't want to tell you lot 'cause you'll just kill them all early and ruin my reputation!"

The doctors and Rose glared at the demon, obviously disgusted.

Dean stepped forward. "Look, we'll find the aliens later! Right now we need to get this demon bitch out of Mary!" He nodded to Sam, who came forward and starting chanting a form of Latin.

The demon, despite being in pain, choked out, "Get 'em, boys!" Then in came five demons, all wearing diabolical smiles.

Sam stopped his chanting and charged the demons. Dean pulled out a knife, slashing and hacking. The others jumped back in alarm. Sherlock pulled out his gun and shot one in the head, but the demon only recoiled briefly before attacking Sherlock. John, out of instinct, grabbed the canteen of holy water and sprayed the demon with it.

It shrank back, boiling and screaming. Demon-Mary backed away, grabbed one of Sam's guns, and shot both the demon traps, causing them to become ineffective. With just two demons left, Castiel approached them. They attacked, but never made it. Castiel slammed his hands on their foreheads; their eyes suddenly lit up with a bright, blinding light.

"Cover your eyes!" Dean shouted, dragging his little brother to the ground. Everyone turned away from the bright white before it ended. They all looked again, seeing the damage. Bodies littered the ground, the demons' eyes burnt to nothing. There was silence for a long time, everyone in shock, until Dean and Sam noticed Demon-Mary on the ground. Striding over, they picked her up and placed her inside the demon trap again. Wasting no time Dean started chanting the Latin. Demon-Mary cringed and twisted, before the black smoke escaped Mary, flooding the roof before leaving out the broken window. Mary fell limp, John rushed to her, checking her pulse before she groaned. Opening her eyes she saw John and smiled. Suddenly, she gasped and felt her bulging stomach.

"John!" she shouted. "The baby's coming!"

"Oh, really now!" Dean cursed as he helped Cas up. "Can't you just hold it in until we get the demon out of it?"

Sam gave his brother an irritated look as he helped Mary up to the bed.

The Doctor was still on the couch, sonic screwdriver in one hand and Rose's hand in the other. Neither of them seemed to be paying anyone too much attention until now.

"Oh move!" Rose huffed, shoving them out of the way, studying Mary she took a deep breath. "We need to take her to a hospital in about an hour."

Suddenly, there was a high-pitched scream from downstairs, followed by a large snap. Dean and Sam rushed out of the room. It was Mrs. Hudson, on the floor, neck twisted, with a demon standing over her. The brothers jumped down, quickly killing the demon.

The sound of another pair of feet bounced around the room. It was Sherlock, frozen in place at the sight of Mrs. Hudson's body.

"MRS. HUDSON!" he yelled, jumping down and checking her pulse. When he didn't feel one, he let go of her, standing, he stood there, face dark.

Castiel, however, walked calmly over and knelt down, placing two fingers on her forehead. There was a sudden popping noise as her neck seemed to reposition itself. Mrs. Hudson's eyes shot open, a cry escaping her lips. Sherlock's eyes grew wider than his cheekbones.

"Oh dear. What happened? Is that Sherlock?" Mrs. Hudson questioned, looking at the two men standing above her.

"You were killed by a demon. I resurrected you," Castiel explained blatantly, looking around for any more danger.

To much of everybody's surprise, Mrs. Hudson didn't seem too worried. She simply huffed out, "Oh well. There's another near-death experience. How did you manage to save me, young man?"

Castiel looked at her, his blue eyes bright and holy. "I am an angel of the Lord."

Mrs. Hudson's eyes grew wider at this, but not by much. She smiled and took Sherlock's hand as he helped her up. "Well, it's nice to know that some angels are looking after us."

After making sure she was alright, they headed back upstairs where they needed to decide what to do with the baby.

"The demon wasn't in Mary long enough to make a complete anti-christ, but the baby still has some powers. I must kill it." Castiel announced.

Sherlock snapped his head towards the angel, his face stern. "You will do no such thing!"

The Winchesters stood taller next to Castiel, their hands instinctively going for their guns. Sherlock stayed where he was, calculating how much of a chance he'd stand against two demon hunters and an angel. Tension hung thick in the air. Finally, Dean turned to Castiel, dropping his hand from his gun.

"Seriously though. Cas. We aren't killin' a newborn baby!"

Castiel turned to him in defiance. "Dean, I let that first one escape. We can't risk any more antichrists."

Sam also let his hand drop and, to Dean's surprise, teamed with Cas on this one. "He's right Dean, we can't risk any more problems."

Dean stared at his younger brother in utter shock, his mouth dropping. "It's a baby, Sammy!" Dean objected again. "A FRICKIN' BABY!"

"I know," Sam admitted, "but the baby also has demon in it. We can't have another anti-christ walking around."

Dean opened his mouth to protest again, then snapped it shut.

"Sherlock, this abomination must die," Cas explained meekly. He started to walk towards the detective. "Hundreds of others could possibly die if we don't kill it."

"Her, not it," Sherlock corrected. "'It' is a her. They named her Elizabeth."

Suddenly, Sherlock's phone started ringing, "John. What is it?"

John's reply was muffled and fast, and as he spoke, Sherlock's face grew more and more worried. "Mary walked out of the hospital. She just got up and walked out," he said.

The others now grew worried, but it was Dean who actually said something. "Was John with her the whole time?"

Sherlock put the phone to his ear and asked. There was silence before he finally dropped the phone. "The only time he left was to get coffee."

The Winchesters paled, and Castiel gave the detective a sad, knowing look.

"What?" Sherlock asked, his face worried.

"A demon possesed Mary again. Most likely the same one." Dean explained.

Sam cleared his throat. "We're going...we have to get rid of her. And we need to go the hospital. Now."

Sherlock gave them all a threatening look, blocking their way to the door. "You're not killing her! You're not killing the baby. You're not killing Mary!"

Dean walked forward, trying to look sympathetic. "Look, Sherlock. We know this is hard, but we have put her down. If we don't, more people are going to get hurt."

"'_Put her down'?!_ She is not a dog. She's someone's wife. She's someone's mother. I'm not letting you through-" His talking abruptly stopped as Castiel placed two fingers to his forehead. Sherlock crumpled to the ground, unconscious.

"You didn't have to do that, Cas," Sam frowned.

Castiel turned to him, his face serious. "We don't have _time_ to _sympathize_.We need to stop demon Mary."

The Winchesters followed him out of the flat and into the Impala. Dean sped off to the hospital, nearly hitting everything and everyone on the way. They parked (very crookedly) before running inside and trying to find the maternity ward.

"Try reading the sign," Sam sighed, pointing out that it was upstairs, second room on the left.

Turning the corner, they almost ran into John sitting in a chair, face buried in his hands.

"Hey, John!" Sam called.

John looked up, pushing himself out of the chair. "What the HELL is going on!" he shouted. The doctor and Rose appeared around a corner, seeing their companions they hurried over.

"Okay, first, you need to calm down. Second, did Mary say anything before she walked out?" Dean took charge, staring down at John.

"N-no s-she just walked out," John said, his eyes darkening.

The other three looked around, trying to find where she could have gone. Then a light bulb lit up in Castiel's head.

"The baby!" Castiel shouted.

Everyone sprinted off towards the nursery, finally stopping in front of a huge white door with a large window next to it. Through it, they saw Demon-Mary, picking up a small baby out of a bassinet and sneaking out a side door towards the elevators. John moved to take out his gun, but Castiel held out his arm.

"Follow her," he muttered before disappearing in thin air.

John blinked, trying to comprehend what just happened as he put away his gun and followed the Winchesters out the door. Sherlock sighed once before running after them. Once they were outside, they turned a corner after Mary and followed her into the alley. And there was Castiel, holding Mary by the neck, an angel blade against her throat.

"NO!" John screamed, trying to run towards Mary, but Sam held him back.

Mary started screaming. "You'll all die, whether it's from us or those Daleks, you'll all die! The apocalypse is here and-" she was cut short by Castiel stabbing her neck with the angel blade. Her body shook, and her eyes, mouth, and ears lit up with an orange light. Cas pulled out the blade and Mary fell to the ground, limp. John stared at his wife in utter shock, his mouth open and eyes gigantic.

Castiel turned towards them. "And since you're already in shock, I suppose I should tell you now: the baby is also deceased."

* * *

**Ugh finally someone died *Runs away from angry mob because I killed the baby... and Mary too I guess...* Anyway review to let us know how we did! WE WANT TO KNOW!**


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